


Scared of Shakespeare

by BitterSnowflake



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, M/M, References to Shakespeare, Shakespeare Quotations, Shakespearean Sonnets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28385934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BitterSnowflake/pseuds/BitterSnowflake
Relationships: Tom Hiddleston x Reader, Tom Hiddleston/Reader, Tom Hiddleston/You, tom hiddleston x you
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	Scared of Shakespeare

You smiled and turned around in bed as you woke up to the smell of fresh coffee. Tom was as energetic and self-disciplined as always, getting up early to go for a run. A great contrast to yourself, seeing as you loved to sleep-in and had a tendency to procrastinate things. It was December 31st 2020, the last day of the year. You had looked forward to starting a new, hopefully less turbulent year, together with Tom and felt in a good mood as you got out of bed. It was only going to be the two of you in his apartment celebrating the new year, due to the social distancing recommendations. You would miss not being able to celebrate the new year with friends, but was at the same time grateful that you didn’t have to do it alone.

“Goodmorning,” you greeted Tom as you got into the kitchen where he was sitting, reading a book while sipping his coffee.

“Morning?” he questioned amusedly and glanced down at his watch. “It’s past eleven.”

“It is?” you asked surprisedly. You didn’t realise that you had slept for that long.

“Do you remember your new year’s resolutions?” Tom asked as he put the book down on the table and looked at you thoughtfully.

“Umm,” you uttered as you thought hard to remember what promises you could have possibly made.

“I figured that much,” Tom said and got up from the table, grabbed the book and handed it to you. You frowned as you read the title ‘Shakespeare’s Sonnets’ and then uttered an ‘oh’ as realisation hit. Last new year’s eve, you had drunkenly promised Tom that you would read Shakespeare’s sonnets and reflect over their contents. He had gladly bought you the book you were now holding, but you had put it in the bookshelf and forgotten all about your promise. All year. How typical of you, putting yourself in a situation like this.

“Umm, Tom,” you said as you followed him into the living room. “I don’t have time to read and reflect over all of the sonnets before the year is over.”

Tom raised an eyebrow at you and put his hands at his sides, looking determined. “You have thirteen hours,” he told you firmly. “You may not have the time to deep dive into every sentence written by the bard himself, but you do have time to read and reflect over some of his sonnets. I have marked some of my favourites for you.”

“Of course you have,” you replied with a sigh. Of course he wasn’t letting you get away with it. It was Shakespeare after all. There was no chance that Tom would let you off the hook.

“Are you giving me an attitude?” Tom questioned, a smile playing at his lips. You wanted so badly to kiss them.

“Maybe,” you mumbled, biting your lip as you looked at him expectantly. He walked up to you and you felt a thrill of excitement run through your body as he leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“Let me not to the marriage of true minds / Admit impediments; love is not love / Which alters when it alteration finds, / Or bends with the remover to remove.” You swallowed as you listened to him recite the sonnet. As he paused and took a step back, you found yourself aching for more. More of his closeness, his voice in your ear, his hot breath against your neck and the words of Shakespeare recited for you.

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded and looked back to find him smirking at you. That bastard. He knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“I’ll read you the rest later, if you sit down and start reading right away,” he told you smugly. “I’ll get you your coffee,” he offered and led you towards the sofa. You slumped down and reluctantly opened the book. You had always thought that Shakespeare would be too difficult for you, that you would not understand a single word, much less be able to interpret his writings correctly. You were afraid to be regarded as stupid if you failed to understand what the poems said, that’s why you had never opened the book. You were too scared.

Tom came back with your cup of coffee and frowned as he saw your dejectedness. “What’s wrong?” he asked. You put the book down next to you on the sofa and sighed heavily.

“I’m scared,” you admitted.

“Of what?” Tom asked, struggling to understand what was weighing you down.

“Of Shakespeare,” you tried to explain.

“You’re scared of Shakespeare?” Tom asked confusedly.

“Yes,” you replied sadly. “I’m afraid you will think I’m an idiot if I don’t understand the meanings of his sonnets.”

“Have you tried reading one?” Tom wondered and picked up the book before sitting down next to you. He put an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him. You instinctively rested your head against his shoulder. “Well, have you?” he asked when you didn’t respond.

“No,” you admitted. “But I’m pretty sure I won’t understand even if I try. Shakespeare is not for everyone.”

“I think you’re wrong. Shakespeare is for everyone, it’s just that not everyone knows it yet,” Tom insisted.

“You sound like a fanatic,” you told him amusedly. “Like a member of some Shakespeare cult.”

“Shh, not so loud,” he hushed you humorously. “On a more serious note, Shakespeare is nothing to be afraid of.” He turned the pages of the book until he reached one of the pages he had marked for you. “Would you like me to read it for you?” he wondered and you nodded eagerly in response. “My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun; / Coral is far more red than her lips’ red; / If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; / If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.” You smiled as you listened intently to him read. He made it so captivating, and you admired how effortlessly the words left his mouth. His mouth, his lips, not red like coral, but beautiful nonetheless. His eyes, nothing like the sun, but still full of life and enticing.

“I have seen roses damasked, red and white, / But no such roses see I in her cheeks, / And in some perfumes is there more delight / Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.” You laughed a little as he read this, and thought about how not even Tom’s breath would smell wonderful at all times, especially not if he had been smoking or drinking.

“I love to hear her speak, yet well I know / That music hath a far more pleasing sound / I grant I never saw a goddess go - / My mistress when she walks treads on the ground. / And yet by heaven I think my love as rare / As any she belied with false compare.” You loved Tom and found him perfect just the way he was. You didn’t need to put into words a false comparison, such as describing his eyes like the sun, to show that you loved him. That was how you interpreted the sonnet - as a love declaration giving a realistic description of the subject. You enjoyed it far more than you had expected.

“So, any thoughts?”

“I liked it,” you replied and kissed his lips softly. “And I love you. Even though your eyes are nothing like the sun,” you added with a wink. Tom’s entire being lit up with excitement at your words.

“See! I told you. Shakespeare is nothing to be scared of, but something to cherish if you only give it a shot,” he told you eagerly and turned the pages of the book again to a marked page. “Would you like me to read you another?” he asked eagerly, and you couldn’t do anything but smile warmly at how adorkable he was and nod in response. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? / Thou art more lovely and more temperate:...”

You smiled and gave a sigh of content as you listened to him read the sonnet. Thanks to Tom, you were no longer scared of Shakespeare.


End file.
